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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Tired of Life


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Get away from life

Pick up the knife

Its gleaming touch it

Look at you wrist and slit

In a heap I lay

Death is on its way.

Nothing left to be

Suicide was for me

No note to say why

Why should I explain how I used to try?

How I used to cry and scream

How I thought dying was a pleasant dream.

You never noticed you didn’t care,

How my mind would bend and tear

Horrible thoughts corrupted my mind

And the reason to this I could not find.

Friends, family do not mourn

I am happy, no longer torn.

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